


standing on the edge of forever

by ericdire (aarobron)



Series: two of a kind beats all hands tonight [2]
Category: Men's Football RPF
Genre: Family Feels, Happy Ending, Implied/Referenced Emotional/Psychological Abuse, M/M, POV Multiple
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-19
Updated: 2020-06-20
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:54:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24806533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aarobron/pseuds/ericdire
Summary: “She needs to know, Virg,” Jordan says softly, skimming his palm along the line of Virgil’s shoulders. The bare skin is warm and perfect under his hand and he watches as Virgil turns his head, watches his pupils expand when his gaze settles on Jordan, and the lopsided smile that spreads across his face – the one that he’s trying to hold back. “She’s your mum. She deserves to know.”“Fine,” Virgil mutters, pressing his head back into the pillow. He uses the hand that’s tangled with Jordan’s to pull the older man over to him, rolling into his body and resting his chin on his chest to look at him. Virgil peers back with a slight smile on his face. “But only if you come with me.”
Relationships: Virgil van Dijk/Jordan Henderson
Series: two of a kind beats all hands tonight [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1794232
Comments: 1
Kudos: 34





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> hello again! welcome to the first sequel to what might be the best fic i've ever written.
> 
> if fix-its for your own fic were a thing, then this would be one of them. it's basically just hendo realising he's had a little family all along, nice and happy.
> 
> happy reading! feedback and kudos always appreciated xxx

“She needs to know, Virg,” Jordan says softly, skimming his palm along the line of Virgil’s shoulders. The bare skin is warm and perfect under his hand and he watches as Virgil turns his head, watches his pupils expand when his gaze settles on Jordan, and the lopsided smile that spreads across his face – the one that he’s trying to hold back. “She’s your mum. She deserves to know.” 

“Jennee already told her the wedding is off,” Virgil huffs, finding Jordan’s hand in the space between their bodies and tangling their fingers together. They’re still in bed, not quite ready to get up and face the world. This is probably the place where Jordan is happiest. “What else do I need to tell her?”

“Er, maybe the reason why?” Jordan asks, a little incredulous. He pinches Virgil’s side and grins when the younger man feigns hurt, but he cuddles up to Jordan’s side only a second later, nose brushing cold against his collarbone. “Don’t you think you should tell her that you’re in love with the man you called your best friend for years? The very best friend that she practically let live in her house?” 

“I mean, I _could_ ,” Virgil says, curling a palm around Jordan’s cheek and then pressing a kiss to the other. He’s so careful, considerate, loving. If you’d have told Jordan that any of this was going to happen two weeks ago, he would’ve laughed in your face. “But I’d much rather stay here with you.” 

“Virgil,” Jordan says disapprovingly, nudging at Virgil’s legs with his knee. Virgil sighs dramatically and turns onto his back, but still keeps his gaze on Jordan’s face. It’s almost like he can’t bear to look away.

“Fine,” he mutters, pressing his head back into the pillow. He uses the hand that’s tangled with Jordan’s to pull the older man over to him, rolling into his body and resting his chin on his chest to look at him. Virgil peers back with a slight smile on his face. “But only if you come with me.” 

Jordan bristles. Tries to pull away but Virgil keeps him in place, curls an arm around his shoulders and steals a little kiss, and then another like he can’t quite help himself. “I don’t know, Virgil…” He says, trailing off distantly. The prospect is making him feel a little bit sick, to be honest. 

“It’ll be fine, J,” Virgil murmurs, pressing his lips against Jordan’s temple. He’s so in tune to Jordan’s thoughts that it’s almost ridiculous, and it seems like since they’ve been together, he knows instinctively what Jordan is feeling. It should feel terrifying, like he’s backed into a corner with no way to escape, but instead it makes him feel safe. Virgil knows him. That’s all he’s ever wanted. “We’ll have been there and gone again before she’s even noticed my car in the drive.” 

“But what if she does notice,” Jordan says. It’s not so much a question as a slightly panicked yet subdued statement, and he worries his bottom lip between his teeth to the point that it hurts. The taste of blood fills his mouth and he swipes his tongue across it, not meeting Virgil’s disapproving gaze.

“Then you look at her like you’re seeing right through her, you walk away, and you move on. You don’t need to acknowledge her, Jordan. She’s not a part of your life anymore,” Virgil says. It’s far too logical, and he combs his fingers through Jordan’s hair gently. “And I’ll be by your side the entire way, babe. You’re not on your own.” 

Jordan hesitates for a minute. His mind is racing, thoughts going at a thousand miles an hour, but he settles against Virgil’s body and swallows. “...Alright,” he says eventually, pressing his mouth to Virgil’s shoulder. He’s probably going to regret agreeing to this. “I’ll do it.”

“Good. I’m proud of you,” Virgil says. His mouth curves up into a sweet little smile and he squeezes the back of Jordan’s neck before rolling out of bed and holding a hand out for Jordan to take. He doesn’t care one bit about the fact he’s got no clothes on, because they’re allowed to look at each other’s bodies now. That’s probably the only thing that’s changed. “Now, would you care to join me for a shower? You wash my back and I’ll wash yours.”

There’s no way Jordan can say no to that.

.

The shower lasts a lot longer than it should, but mostly because Virgil spent most of it on his knees. Jordan isn’t complaining, of course, but still – by the time they’d washed and dressed and eaten breakfast (that was more like lunch now), they were at least three hours later than they’d planned on being. 

Still, it doesn’t matter too much, because Virgil’s mum confirms that she’s going to be in when he texts, and she even adds that Jordan’s mother’s car isn’t parked on the street. Always helpful, is Hellen, and it only confirms his suspicions that she spent their teenage years looking out for Jordan. He loves her like she’s his own mum. 

Virgil drives and Jordan has been his passenger plenty, but it's never been like this. It’s always been the two of them singing badly at the top of their lungs, but it’s never been Virgil’s hand on his thigh. It’s always been Virgil blaming Jordan when he misses his turn, but it’s never been Virgil parking in his mum’s drive, and before he even turns the engine off, stretching across the gearstick to give Jordan a careful little kiss.

Hellen was right – the driveway that leads up to Jordan’s old house is empty, and he didn’t even realise how tense he was until his shoulders relax. He still feels a little bit awkward though, and he turns to Virgil with a firm look in his eyes.

“I’m staying in the car,” he says with finality. That’s it, he’s not going in.

“What? No you’re not,” Virgil says. He sounds a little confused and very panicked and reaches across to tangle his fingers with Jordan’s, holding as tight as he possibly can. “Why would you stay in the car?” 

“I know you’re out to her and I know she likes me, but it might be different,” Jordan explains calmly. It’s probably not rational but he’s been thinking about it for the entire journey here, and he’s made his decision. He’s not going back on it now. “You were getting married, Virgil. Her oldest son was getting married and she was excited – do you know how many times she asked me for my opinion on mother of the groom outfits? – and now you’re not, because you decided you want me more. She might resent me for that.”

“She won’t,” Virgil says, although he sounds unsure. He curls his palm around Jordan’s cheek and looks at him carefully, tracking every little movement of his face, and then he sighs, dipping his head slightly. “You’re not going to change your mind, are you?”

“No,” Jordan says, twisting his head to press a dry kiss to Virgil’s palm. “I love her, and I don’t want to see another mother figure start to hate me.” 

“She’s not going to hate you,” Virgil sighs, but he pulls Jordan in for a hug anyway. It’s not very comfortable, the angle, but it’s still warm and Jordan still loves every minute of it. When Virgil pulls away, he presses a gentle kiss to Jordan’s forehead and then his mouth. “Fine. I’ll try not to be long, okay? Text me if you need anything.”

“I will,” Jordan promises, and smiles when Virgil squeezes his hand. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Virgil whispers, and then he’s gone.

.

Virgil lets himself in, because his mum would shout at him if he knocked. He’s heard it all before: _this is your home, Virgil. You are my son, you don’t need to ask to come in. You lived here for years too. I always want you in our home_. Besides, his mum is waiting for him in the living room anyway, and she jumps up off the sofa as soon as she hears the door close, pulling him in for a hug.

“Are you okay? Are you ill?” She asks. She’s speaking Dutch and her words are so fast that Virgil winces, trying desperately to keep up. He doesn’t speak much Dutch these days – and she’d kill him if she found out, so he tries to pretend that everything is okay. Thankfully, she doesn’t notice. “Why did Jennee tell me that the wedding is off? Is Stella okay? What happened, Virgil? Are you still together? Why didn’t you tell me _yourself_?”

“Jesus,” he laughs, slightly awkward. He’s overwhelmed by all his mum’s questions, to be honest, and he pulls away, placing his hands on her shoulders and steering her towards the kitchen. If she’s going to interrogate him, she can at least make him a cup of tea first. “Calm down, mama. I’ll explain everything.” 

He doesn’t say anything else about it until he’s sat at the breakfast bar, with his mum opposite him. He clutches his mug to his chest like it’s a shield – like a shitty piece of Ikea porcelain is going to protect him – and tries not to panic. _There’s nothing to worry about, Virgil. She’s your mother_.

“Well?” She asks eventually, raising an eyebrow. She reaches across and pats his wrist although it’s a little harder than normal, so she must be getting impatient. God knows he can’t keep putting it off. “Why have I got to take my outfit back to Debenhams, then? Did you fall in love with Jordan or something?” 

Virgil laughs. She’s hit the nail right on the head.

“Well, when you say it like that,” he says, cheeks flushing bright red. There’s a glint in her eye but he doesn’t know what it’s trying to say. He couldn’t guess even if he wanted to. “Yeah. Yes, I have.” 

“ _Finally_!” She says, rounding the counter and grabbing his shoulders. She looks for any sign that he’s joking and when she finds none, she pulls him in for a hug, rocking him back and forth like he’s a baby again. He can’t help but wrap his arms around her and bury his face into her neck. Her perfume is so familiar and comforting. “I’ve waited for _years_ for you to say that.”

“You knew?” He asks, pulling back in surprise. At this point, he’s starting to think that he’s the only person that _didn’t_.

“Yes, I knew,” she says, rolling her eyes. She touches his cheek gently and Virgil takes a minute to look at her properly – the beaming smile on her face and the sparkle in her eyes, the way her cheeks are slightly red with joy. Maybe this is going to be okay. “I never understood how you didn’t realise.”

“Well, I never have been very perceptive,” Virgil says, flushing bright red under her scrutiny. He’s honestly a little bit embarrassed that he never realised what he feels for Jordan. He could have saved them both years of misery. 

“No, you haven’t – but I’m glad you’re up to speed now,” she says. She kisses his forehead even though she’s about a full foot shorter than him, and he lowers his head slightly. The joy and love is buzzing around his veins, making him feel like a brand new person. He forgot how much he loves spending time with his mum. “Where is he, anyway? The boy that stole my son’s heart.” 

Virgil huffs out a quiet laugh, but he can’t deny it. “He’s waiting in the car,” he says, eyes straying towards the front door. He can’t see the car from here, which is almost painful. He wishes he could see Jordan, candid and lovely, having not even realised he’s being watched. “He thought you’d hate him when you found out.”

Hellen tuts, following the line of Virgil’s gaze to the door. “I could never hate him – he’s my favourite son,” she says, a teasing smile on her face. She takes a hold of Virgil’s bicep and all but drags him out of his chair, pushing him out into the hallway. “Go get your boyfriend, Virgil. I want to give him a cuddle.” 

He does as he’s told. He’s learnt by now that it’s easier not to argue, and that’s probably why he’s the favourite out of him, Jordon and Jennee (discounting her unofficial son, of course). He definitely gets away with murder. 

Jordan is exactly where Virgil left him, biting his nails and staring down at his phone. Virgil can tell that he isn’t processing whatever he’s looking at, though – he looks too anxious, eyes glazed over and mouth turned down at the corners. He jumps when Virgil knocks on the passenger side window and then pouts, dropping his phone when Virgil pulls the door open.

“Hi,” Jordan says, closing his eyes happily when Virgil presses a kiss to his cheek. He opens his eyes and smiles, tangling their fingers together and stealing another little kiss. That must mean he hasn’t laid eyes on his mum – thankfully. “Did it go alright?” 

“It went great. She already knew – well, she guessed,” Virgil says, smiling kindly and pressing another kiss to Jordan’s forehead. He’s never been this affectionate with any of his partners before. He’s pretty sure it’s not even the honeymoon phase – this is just how much he loves Jordan. It’ll never go away. “She asked me to come get you. She misses you, you know.” 

“So she doesn’t hate me?” Jordan asks. He’s buzzing a little bit, like he’s vibrating underneath Virgil’s hands. It’s understandable – he must have been terrified, even if he didn’t admit it. Virgil knows what he’s been through. 

“No, Jordan,” Virgil says kindly, although it is laced with amusement. He presses one final kiss to Jordan’s mouth and then pulls him out of the car and to his feet, not letting go of his hand when they’re finally up. “She doesn’t hate you. She loves you and she’s very glad you’re her new son-in-law.” 

“Son-in-law is quite heavy,” Jordan says, eyes flickering as he searches Virgil’s face. Virgil just smiles, because honestly, it is quite heavy, but he really does like the sound of that. He likes the sound of forever, just the two of them and the people they love. It sends thrills down his spine, and he’s never had that with anyone else. “Well, come on then. Suppose I’d better go face my mother in-law, hadn’t I?” 

.

Hellen pulls Jordan in for a hug as soon as she sees him. It’s almost suffocating, and Virgil raises his eyebrows questioningly over her shoulder, but Jordan shakes his head. He said _almost_. It’s actually quite nice, knowing that someone loves him. He’s not used to it.

“Look at you,” Hellen says, taking his face in her hands. She drags her gaze up and down his body and then tuts, pulling him back into the hug and kissing his cheek. “Still handsome, but you’re looking skinny, Jordan. Has my son not been feeding you?” 

“I feed him plenty!” Virgil interjects, stepping closer so he’s standing right next to the two of them. Hellen ignores him, but Jordan smiles, reaching out to knock his knuckles against Virgil’s hand gently. “Besides, it’s only been a few weeks since you last saw him, a _month_ at best. You can put him down now, and stop insulting me.” 

“You were always so needy,” Hellen tuts, sending a shady little side glance Virgil’s way. Still, she lets go of Jordan and takes his hand instead, pulling him towards the sofa. Virgil looks affronted but it’s funny, and Jordan just smirks. He’s going to make the most of this, because he knows Virgil will be pouting about it for hours. “I can’t believe he left you in the car, Jordan. Like a cute little puppy. Virgil – go make him a cup of tea. It’s the least you can do after you abandoned him.” 

Virgil goes to deny it, but Jordan sends him a look that stops him in his tracks. He sighs, rolls his eyes (and thankfully Hellen doesn’t see it), and goes into the kitchen. Jordan can’t see him anymore, and all he can hear is the sound of him filling the kettle and opening cupboard doors. It should make him anxious, but Hellen makes him feel so relaxed that he barely even blinks.

“Jordan, how could you think I’d hate you?” Hellen asks, snapping him out of his thoughts about Virgil. Her voice goes incredibly soft and she takes Jordan’s hands, reaching up to smooth his hair off his forehead. “I'm so happy this has finally happened for you. I know how long you’ve had feelings for Virgil, and honestly, I still have no idea how my idiot son didn’t realise – but that doesn’t matter anymore. You finally get to be happy, both of you. After everything you’ve been through, Jordan… this is your time now. You deserve it.” 

He doesn’t realise he’s crying until Hellen reaches up and wipes his cheeks dry. It’s kind of embarrassing and he swipes roughly at his face, trying to choke back the tears. Honestly, someone says one nice thing to him and he’s a wreck.

“Couldn’t believe it when he told me he loved me,” Jordan says, laughing wetly. He drags the back of his hand across his eyes and sniffs a little bit, straightening his spine. He knows that he won’t get judged though. Not in this house – not Hellen. “Been waiting for him to say that for fourteen years, you know? Don’t get me wrong, he’s always been incredible and I probably wouldn’t have even made it to twenty one without him, but sometimes, I just wished for something more. Just one more thing to keep me going.” 

“And now you’ve got it. Forever,” Hellen adds with a smile. Jordan ducks his head and tries to hide the fact tears are blurring his vision again, but it’s only because he’s so happy. He never thought he’d get to this point in his life. “I’m so glad it’s you, Jordan.” 

It's at this point that Virgil walks in. He takes one look at Jordan's face and stops, putting the mug on the table with so much force that a little bit spills over the side. He doesn't even seem to notice - he's only got eyes for Jordan.

"You've been crying," he breathes, crouching down next to Jordan. It must be uncomfortable, long limbs folded like that, but there's no sign of it on his face. Instead, he reaches up to touch Jordan's cheek gently. From the corner of his eye, he sees Hellen look away like she doesn't want to intrude on such a private moment. "What's wrong, sweetheart? What happened?"

"It's nothing, it's fine," Jordan whispers, sending a small smile Virgil's way. He taps his chin gently but the younger man doesn't back down, and he wraps his arms  
around Jordan's shoulders in a tight, warm hug. "Just had a moment, that's all."

"Are you sure?" Virgil asks, voice incredibly soft. He's got both big hands rubbing up and down Jordan's back and he presses a kiss to his temple. That alone makes tears spring to Jordan's eyes. He really thought he'd seen every facet of Virgil's personality, but he's seen so much more over the past week or so. "Do you want to go home?"

"No, I told you," Jordan says, turning his head so that his nose is brushing against Virgil’s cheekbone. Hellen is still pointedly not looking, but it's so staged that Jordan knows she's watching every little movement out of the corner of her eye. "It's nothing, alright? I'll explain it all later."

Virgil pulls back far enough that he can watch Jordan’s face, and when he doesn’t find what he’s looking for, he nods and sighs a little bit. “If you’re sure,” he says, pressing a quick kiss to the corner of Jordan’s mouth. The older man thinks about it for only a split second and then decides, _fuck it_ , and gives him a proper peck. The only person that’s around to see them is Hellen, and she’s family. “Come on, drink your tea. I even found mama’s secret biscuit stash for you.” 

Jordan looks around. Virgil is sitting next to him, so close that the heat is radiating off his body, and he’s got the long fingers of one hand curled around Jordan’s thigh. Hellen is sat opposite him, wearing the same perfume she’s always worn, floral and familiar, and she’s play-arguing with Virgil about something and nothing. 

It’s crazy, but it’s home. And honestly, Jordan knows that maybe it’s a little bit pathetic. This isn’t much, not really – but it is his family. It’s the only one that’s ever cared about him enough to take him in, and that counts for everything when you’ve got blood relatives like his.

That counts for more than anything else, and he wouldn’t change it for the world.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i wasn't actually going to add to this but then i had an idea of a bit i wished i put in so i just did a second chapter. surprise!
> 
> enjoy xxx

Hellen asks them to stay for dinner, and Virgil is the one who hesitates. 

It's probably because he knows he'll get roped into cooking, but Jordan punches his shoulder and tells Hellen that of course they'll stay. She's been nothing but kind to him, so he's not going to just - _skip out_ on her. He does have some manners, even if they are self taught.

"Do you need us to do anything?" He asks, ignoring the roll of Virgil’s eyes. He knows he's going to get shit about being a suck up, but he doesn't care. If Hellen is going to be his mother-in-law, he's going to make double, triple, _quadruple_ sure that she likes him. 

“Thank you for offering, Jordan, it’s very kind of you,” Hellen says, getting up and patting Jordan’s head on the way past. She flicks the back of Virgil’s head and barely reacts to his grumbling reaction. “But you boys just relax and enjoy yourselves. I’m actually quite looking forward to cooking a meal for three again.” 

Virgil drags him upstairs, into his childhood bedroom, and Jordan can’t help but let out a breath he didn’t realise he was holding when the door closes behind them. He’s been in this room a million times, sat on the floor to do his homework and slept in that bed with Virgil pressed up next to him, snoring in his ear, but it’s never quite been like this. He’s never stood in this room and held Virgil’s hand, and thought about how much he wants to kiss him.

And he wants to kiss him, so he does.

He curls both hands along the sharp lines of Virgil’s jaw and brings his face closer, kissing him gently. Virgil smiles into it, mouth curving up sweetly, and then he dives back in for a proper kiss. His tongue traces the seam of Jordan’s lips and the older man is powerless to resist, opening his mouth and letting Virgil take whatever he wants. 

He’s not sure how long they stand like that. It could be hours, days, weeks, and Jordan wouldn’t know the difference. He feels whole, right here in this room with Virgil’s arms around him. He feels like he belongs, and for the first time in years, his heart feels incredibly light.

“Thought about this so much when we were kids,” Jordan whispers, pulling back only far enough that he can speak. His mouth is still brushing against Virgil’s and Virgil’s arms are still tight around his waist, but that’s the way he likes it. One person, two bodies. “Just – giving up the pretence. Pausing Fifa and leaning over to kiss you. Waking you up in the morning with a hand on your waist and a kiss to the cheek. Wondering what you’d do, how you’d react. In my head you always ended up hating me.” 

“I wouldn’t have hated you,” Virgil says quickly, like it’s something he’s sure of. He pushes forward to steal another kiss and then presses his lips to Jordan’s cheek, making the older man flush bright red under the attention. “Would’ve been surprised, yeah. But I’m sure it wouldn’t have taken much persuasion from you to bring me round.” 

“Are you telling me,” Jordan says, entirely teasing. He pauses to kiss Virgil again, arms slipping down to loop around the back of his neck, and then grins when he pulls away. “That I could’ve ended years of misery and heartbreak by waking up and jumping you?”

“Yeah, probably,” Virgil says, a smile lighting up his face. He untangles himself from the loose embrace and sits on the edge of his bed, patting the space next to him until Jordan follows his movements. “Come on, we can play Fifa like old times. I’ll even let you pause it so you can lean over and kiss me.”

Jordan wouldn’t turn that down even if he wanted to. 

.

Dinner is nice. Hellen is kind and pays attention to him, asks about his work and his career plans for the future and then teases him about living with Virgil, but he loves every second of it. He smiles and laughs and at some point, a thick, physical feeling drapes over his shoulders, and he thinks, _oh. This is what family feels like_.

Virgil has a hand on his thigh the entire time and he asks for Jordan’s opinion on things because he really, honestly values it, and he passes him the salad without having to be asked because he knows what Jordan likes, and he doesn’t let him get up when he says he’d like a glass of water. 

Hellen doesn’t judge them for it. If anything, she looks proud of Virgil, and so she should be. He’s kind and thoughtful and he keeps looking at Jordan like he hung the moon and the stars and everything else in the sky. It’s a little bit overwhelming, to be honest, and Jordan doesn’t quite understand it because he’s sure he hasn’t seen it before (although he’s only got a week’s worth of experience to compare it with), but he isn’t complaining. 

And the food is good. The food is very good. Jordan gets it now, because he’s always known that Hellen taught Virgil to cook and that he was the one who fed them all when his mum was working long shifts just to give them food for him to cook, but he thinks he can appreciate it more now. Or maybe it’s because Hellen has less pressure, less mouths to feed and a bigger budget. 

Either way, dinner is wonderful. When they were kids and Jordan would tag along for dinner, he always felt like a bit of an outsider. None of it was Virgil and his family’s fault, of course – they all treated him like one of their own and never, ever acted like the burden that he knew he was – but it still obvious that there was a divide. He’d watch them bicker and banter, playful because they didn’t have to watch their tone for fear of getting a smack, and feel insanely jealous. It would have driven him crazy if he let it.

But he didn’t let it, because when they were finished and Virgil dragged him back upstairs, Virgil only ever paid attention to him. He ignored calls and texts and even people who knocked on his front door (because Virgil was popular whereas Jordan was most definitely _not_ ). They were so close that Jordan felt like Virgil was _his_. 

And now he is.

He doesn’t feel that jealousy anymore. The imposter syndrome has just about faded away and he doesn’t feel uncomfortable when Hellen calls him son anymore. He loves her and he loves Virgil so much that he can’t breathe through it, and they are both his family. Jordon and Jennee are his siblings, and that’s the end of it.

The thought makes him feel light. 

“Shall we head home?” Virgil asks, when the sun is starting to get lower in the sky and Jordan’s eyelids are getting heavy. He lets Jordan lean into his side and presses a kiss to the crown of his head, and neither of them care when Hellen smiles at the sight. 

She gives Jordan a hug before they leave. Virgil, too, but that’s to be expected. Jordan, though – she wraps him up tight and reaches up to kiss his cheek, and then the other. Says, “you take care of yourself, alright? You make Virgil happy and he makes you happy too, and you need to make sure it stays that way. You’re an incredible person, Jordan, and I love you like you’re one of my own.” 

He just about manages to hold back the tears (although the lump in his throat is choking him), and he tangles his fingers with Virgil’s as they walk out to the car. It’s not a long walk, a few steps at most, but god does it feel good to be hand in hand with his boyfriend. 

He’s so tired that all he can think about is getting home, crawling into bed and falling asleep wrapped around Virgil. The younger man knows that and he doesn’t try to speak, just turns the radio on to a low volume and squeezes Jordan’s wrist before starting the engine.

“Thank you for making me come,” Jordan sighs, turning his head so he can look at Virgil. He pulls out of the drive and smiles slightly, although his eyes are still on the road. “It was important for me to do, I think. Might be stupid, but I feel like I’ve been cleansed.” 

“It’s not stupid,” Virgil says, curling his fingers around Jordan’s knee. His voice is gentle and incredibly soothing, and Jordan closes his eyes, lets the sound of it wash over him. “I think you’ve spent some time with people who love you and it’s helped you realise what you’ve got – what you’ve _always_ had. I’ve told you for years that mama loves you, that she doesn’t think you’re a burden. It’s taken a while, but I’m glad that you’ve realised you don’t need people like–– like _her_.” 

The tone of his voice changes when he says the last two words and it prompts Jordan to open his eyes, to look up and out of the windshield. They’re still on the close, driving past Jordan’s childhood home, and it feels like a cold finger strokes down his spine. 

His mother is standing by the open boot of her car. She’s got bags in her hands but she drops them as soon as she spots Jordan, eyes narrowing in a glare as her cheeks redden. Anger, probably, because their paths (thankfully) haven’t crossed since that time she barged into his flat and slapped him. Jordan said what he meant and he meant what he said. There’s no going back – she’s out of his life for good.

He looks at her. Looks _through_ her, really. She’s just irrelevant now, a stain on the unfortunate moments of his past, and he doesn’t care about her. She doesn’t intimidate him, nor does she scare him. He’s over it.

She has no control over him anymore. 

He keeps his gaze on her in the rear view mirror until she grows small enough that she disappears into the distance – disappears from his mind. He doesn’t let out a breath, because he’s not holding one in. Nothing has changed between his life now and his life two minutes ago.

“How do you feel?” Virgil asks quietly, hand sliding up until it’s resting on Jordan’s thigh. The tips of his fingers catch on the inner seam of the older man’s jeans, but it’s comforting more than anything. The heat of his palm seeps into Jordan’s skin even through the material. 

“Fine,” Jordan says, and he’s not surprised to find that it’s the truth. Every other time his mum has tried to ruin his life, it’s worked. Well, almost – every time, he feels a little bit different, like every single nasty word has changed his cells, one by one. Not this time, though. No; this time he feels unchanged. He never realised how beautiful monotony could feel. “I promise. She’s nothing to me, Virgil. Not anymore.” 

Virgil sucks in a deep breath. His grip on Jordan’s thigh tightens and then he lets it out slowly, only glancing at Jordan from the corner of his eye. “I’m proud of you,” he says, voice level. Jordan knows that he’s actually more emotional than he’s letting on. “I’m so proud of you, J. I’m so glad you’re mine.” 

_Ditto_ , Jordan thinks.

“I love you,” he says instead – because he’s allowed to now. Virgil gives him a beaming smile in return and it snatches Jordan’s breath away, replaced instead with butterflies that warm him up from the inside out. 

He has his family, his brand new shiny family made up of in-laws, and that’s enough. That’s more than enough. He doesn’t need anyone else.

Especially not when he’s got Virgil by his side.

**Author's Note:**

> find me on tumblr @ [georginiwijnaldum](url) xo


End file.
